Sunday, 15 December 2013

Well, we’ve had a couple of posts about Christmas, so I
suppose the least I can do is follow them up with a post about New Year’s Eve –
the climax of the Christmas period, and traditionally the time that everyone
goes out all at once and gets pissed up. Then, when it’s all over, I can just
get on with blogging about booze, and never mention these two events again. And
that will be lovely.

It drives me mad how everything stops at this time of year,
and just concedes defeat to the relentless tide that is all things festive.
Music stops, and is replaced by the same Christmas songs you hear every year.
Restaurants stop, and run Christmas menus where everything’s turkey, salmon,
cranberry sauces and stuffing. TV stops and all you get is shit festive
specials and repeats of The Vicar of Dibley.

It’s ridiculous really, because you have all that fuss, all
that build up… and then it’s just over and it’s January. It’s like waking up
from a long dream where everyone’s acting over-enthusiastic, and during which
someone has been force feeding you chocolate, party treats and alcohol. You
wipe the sleep from your eyes and go, “what the fuck was all that
about?"

So, New Year, the biggest anti-climax known to man. You’re
supposed to go out and have a great time, but I’ve been thinking, and I can’t
think of a single great New Year’s Eve. I probably need to stop before I get on
to moaning about how everywhere is too crowded, taxis are too expensive, you
have to buy a ticket in advance to get into a bar, and that means you have to
stay in that bar all night, and that’s shit because I hate staying in one
place… but! I don’t know what all the fuss is about. Everyone seems to think
that working on New Year’s Eve entitles them to being paid double or even
triple time. It shouldn’t really, because they’re not really even missing out
on anything. At least if you’re working, you don’t have to worry about how
you’re going to celebrate.

One year when we lived in Didsbury, we got the bus into town
on new year, and for some reason the bus company (Finglands) had decided to instil
a policy of ‘whatever your journey, £3’. That was a bit steep, considering you
could get a weekly pass for £2 in those days.

It proved to be really annoying too, because it took every
single customer along the route by surprise – and obviously the closer to town
people lived, the less value they were getting for their money. They all got
on, thinking they were going to get a bargain trip into town, but when greeted
with ‘wherever you get on, wherever you’re going, it’s 3 quid’, they didn’t
know what to do. And this happened at every stop, so you’d have to wait an age
while they deliberated: “what? £3?”

On or off!

Getting into town took forever – literally of course.

The best New Year that was entirely booze-fuelled, and on
which I actually went out, was probably the millennium. I know; it should have
been an anti-climax, and I suppose it was in a way… I hadn’t even made any
plans to go out – in fact, I was planning to stay in with the parents and watch
the final episode of the Das Boot TV series.

Instead of that, I got a phone call at the 11th
hour from my friend Pits. Somehow he hadn’t got anything to do, and we decided
he’d come over to the sprawling metropolis that is Wath-upon-Dearne, and we’d
go out looking for trouble.

Dad; VCR on standy. Don’t forget to record Das Boot. I
want to make sure them Jerrys are drowned good and proper…

It was a weird night, because you needed tickets to get in
everywhere – even at all the local pubs. We tried one in Swinton, but the
bouncer asked for our tickets, and we pretended we’d left them at home, and
would just pop back to get them.

Next we tried a pub down Wath. There wasn’t anyone on the
door, so with Pits being the fearless blagger that he is, we just went in. We
managed one drink before we were rumbled and thrown out.

Finally we found a pub in the centre of Wath that wasn’t
working on an all-ticket basis. It was like walking into an episode of The
League of Gentlemen. There were only about four people in there, and they
were all older than time, but nevertheless, they were delighted to see us. The
prices were pretty good, too.

I can’t remember much of what we did, but a very old
painted-faced lady insisted on kissing us as we left – in that wet way that
only grannies have.

So, yes, that is the best going out New Year’s Eve I can
remember. Pretty sad, really. Your best bet in my opinion, is to go to a house
party. Or even better, host one. You just need to make sure you plan it far
enough in advance, and hope enough people think it’s going to be good enough to
go to.

Last year we were planning to go for a meal with some
friends. It was something like £60 each, but you get all champagne and that.
Unfortunately our friends were completely skint, so just ended up going round
theirs.

This year the decision has been taken out of our hands,
since we’ll be in Canada over the festive period, and our flight back is on New
Year’s Day, so we’ll just be hanging out with Mrs Cake’s family.

Well, I’m not here to tell you what to do or where to go,
but wherever you end up going or not going, whatever you end up doing, have a
good one, and try to stay out of trouble, eh?

That’s me for this year, then. I won’t be able to post now
until the beginning of January, so look out for that. I’m thinking of starting
with a brief nod to three Spirits of the
Year, though that could well change before then. I also thought about doing
a little look ahead to what you can expect from me next year, but I tried that
and it wasn’t interesting. That’s not to say next year won’t be interesting! It
will. Seriously! I’m sure there will be some booze tourism adventures and I’ll
always think of a new experiment to carry out or something new to investigate –
as a taster, I’m particularly looking forward to finding out which standard
supermarket blended scotch is the best. So if you’re going to make a new year’s
resolution, make it to come back and visit my blog a bit more often. It’ll be
easier and better than quitting smoking. So I’ll see you soon then, yeh? Good.
Take it easy. Oh, and happy new year.

Sunday, 8 December 2013

Continuing the theme of Christmas related posts, since it's more or less that time of year, this week we'll be looking at something Mrs Cake and I did one day last Christmas... Day Drunk

I’ve had an early
beer before, even a whisky, and I’ve started countless pub crawls at noon, but
last Christmas, the wife and I decided to have a go at Day Drunk. Starting
at say, around 9am it was coffee with Irish cream replacing the milk, then it
was Prosecco in front of the telly and from there, wherever we felt like going
– which was nowhere, except to the local Tesco to pick up more Prosecco and a
little something for lunch.

Other than that, it
was a whole day drinking and laying on the sofa watching films and suchlike.
Below you can see a photo montage of the various drinks we had throughout the
day. We didn’t drink non-stop, but we did drink all day (me mostly, mind).
Occasionally there was between an hour and two hours when we didn’t have any
drinks, but only very occasionally. I made us cocktails and after a bit
we had a smoke.

I’m not sure whether
that was a good idea or not. It certainly compromised the integrity of the
experiment. I’m not going to go into why, but obviously it meant we were
susceptible to different influences and our behaviour was affected. We still
had fun, though.

I’d like to say the
Day Drunk experiment didn’t contribute to the general low feeling we had for
the remainder of our Christmas holidays, but let’s face it; it probably did. I
did far more drinking than I intended to, and looking at my calendar
now, the only day I can be certain I didn’t have anything to drink was New
Year’s Day – I was too ill. The rest of the time encompassed Christmas nights
out with various groups of people, visits with various friends and family, and
it all involved drinking. Never mind; the funk did last well into January, but
you get over it eventually - or things are never the same again and you get
used to it. Whatever, man. Day drunk.

Tuesday, 3 December 2013

Mrs Cake and I were
discussing Christmas present budgets the other week and, while we’re
comfortably off we agreed that we would have to be a little more cautious this
year. So an upper limit was set. “Just so you know,” continued Mrs Cake, ”I
won’t be buying you any whisky this year.”

Yes, I was slightly
disappointed, but I took it quite well. I probably will get some whisky from someone, but even so, I know we’re going
to Canada for Christmas and that I’ll be looking to pick some whiskies up there
anyway, so in all honesty, I didn’t really need
to receive any as a present. I’m thinking one to drink while I’m there, a
bourbon and a Canadian whisky to bring back, possibly along with a Canadian
pomace brandy to if I can find one.

A couple of days
later, Mrs Cake said “I wouldn’t know how
to buy you whisky anymore anyway. I used to just go into a shop and ask for a
recommendation, but now you’ve tried so many more and there are ones you like
and ones you don’t like – I just wouldn’t know what to go for.”

Well, I don’t ever
want anyone to be discouraged from buying me whisky, so having already written
a beginner’s guide for buying whisky as a gift (see last week), it occurred to
me that I had some advice for Mrs Cake, and that you might be able to benefit
from it too. So, how do you buy whisky as a gift for someone who is enthusiastic about whisky?Here are some suggestions for things
you can do.

Determine whether there is a genre of whisky that they are less
familiar with, e.g. bourbon, Irish, Indian, grain (many whisky enthusiasts
are yet to try a single grain whisky). Yes it requires a bit of research
(read: ask them), but you can find a way to do it without giving the game
away. Even if you give the game away, it’s just going to make them look
forward to getting some whisky for Christmas.

Find out if they have an absolute favourite that they would be happy
to receive all the time – I, for example, am known to be a fan of the Caol
Ila 12, but I never buy it for myself because there is always something
else I want to try. It makes sense then, that for me Caol Ila 12 would
make a perfect gift [hint, hint].

Still not sure? Try this: new whisky expressions are being released
all the time, so one thing you can do is get a new expression. Your local
whisky specialist should be able to point something out, or there’s Master of Malt, The Whisky Exchange or Single Malts Direct.

If that doesn’t help, or it doesn’t narrow down your choices enough,
or you’re having trouble
choosing between candidates… just get one that is non chill-filtered
and/or greater than 40% ABV. If it isn’t chill-filtered, that alone is
cause for celebration for a whisky enthusiast, while I just find whiskies
bottled at higher strength more intriguing.

Now, some people say
there is no such thing as bad whisky. I don’t subscribe to that view, having
had one or two bad ones in the past, but the important thing to remember is
that different people experience the same whiskies in many different ways, such
that no matter how much preparation you do, you can never be absolutely sure
you’re going to score a hit with your purchase, hopefully these suggestions
prove useful to you in some way. I would be delighted to hear whether they did
or if you have anything to add.

There are now just
two weeks before we head to Canada for Christmas, so that means just two more
posts before 2014. Next week is likely to be a photo feature about a
drink-related activity Mrs Cake and I indulged in last Christmas. Come back and
join me for that.

Tuesday, 26 November 2013

A little while ago we had a post by the name of, how doyou select wine?in which I expressed my dismay at how hard it can be to
choose what wine to buy from your local supermarket. I contended that there is
just too much choice.

As a result of that, it occurred to me that while I can’t
provide much advice to you on buying wine, I might be just the right person to
help a novice select a nice bottle of whisky, and with Christmas approaching,
there has never been a better time to cover this subject.

Many is the time that I’ve seen a lost soul perusing the
whisky section at Tesco, obviously trying to buy a gift for a whisky-loving or
whisky-curious loved one but sadly having no terms of reference or idea of
where to start. They’re aware that there are good and bad selections, but they
don’t know what they are and are reluctant to make a mistake. Well, I’m here to
help you out. You may be one of the people I’ve seen at Tesco already, so if you
do want to buy your relative or special friend a nice bottle of whisky, take a
sip of coffee and sharpen your reading eyes, this is for you.

Obstacles

There are two major obstacles facing the novice who wants to
buy a bottle of whisky: variety and price, and how much help you need depends
on what you know already – both about whisky and about the person you’re buying
for.

Let’s do a role play. For the purpose of the drama, imagine you’re
a lady (if you’re not already), you’re in Tesco, and you’re looking to buy your
husband a nice bottle of whisky. I’m stood nearby and I notice you looking
lost, but I don’t want to impose. You might think I’m trying to pick you up,
but I’m happily married and not looking for a female whisky drinking companion.
You look at me and can tell that I’m not necessarily there to buy. I’m just
looking to see what they’ve got, and whether there are any offers I can’t
refuse. I must know something about this subject.

You: It’s so confusing, all these different bottles.

Me: Eh? Oh, yeah I know. Are you buying a present?

You: Yeah, for my husband. I don’t suppose you could help?

Me: Aye, probably.

Pay attention here. I’m about to ask the important
questions.

Me again: Is it whisky in particular that you’re after?

That wasn’t one. Just wait.

You: Yes. What would be a good one?

Me: That depends. What kind of whisky does he like?

You: What do you mean?

Me: Scotch, Irish, bourbon…

You: Scotch?

Me: Blended or single malt?

You: I don’t know…

Here you might ask what the difference is. If you did, I
would say, “single malt refers to when a bottle contains whisky that was all
made at one distillery, while a blend can contain whiskies from any number of
distilleries and 50-60% of the contents
are usually made up of grain whisky. Grain whisky is cheaper than malt whisky,
and that is why blends tend to be cheaper than single malts. Single malt is
usually considered to be better, though there are a number of premium blends
for which you could pay well in excess of £100.

Me: What does he normally drink?

You: I’m pretty sure he’s had the Glenfiddich before.

Me: Ok, well that’s a single malt. If you’d said Bells or
Teachers, those would be blends. Did he like the Glenfiddich?

You: I think so.

Me: The standard 12 year old is halfway decent, so if he
liked it, you might want to step up a class and get the 15 year old. It’s a bit
more expensive, but it’s supposed to be better, though I haven’t tried it.

Here’s the next important question.

Me: What’s your budget, if you don’t mind me asking?

You: I was hoping to spend about thirty quid.

If you know how much
he normally spends, it might be a good idea to spend a little bit more. That
way you’re increasing the treat because you’re getting him something he
wouldn’t normally allow himself to buy.

Me: All right. You can get something decent for that 30
quid. If you’re lucky, you can get a good single malt, but you’re more
likely to if you go 35 quid and up – it just depends what they’ve got. Or
you can get a very good blend. Some people are snooty about blends, but there’s
no need to be because some are very good. So, first thing; the cheapest single
malt they’ve got here is the Glen Moray Classic. See that? £18. Don’t get that.
Now, you said you don’t know what kind of scotch he likes, it would be easier if you did, but
we’ll work around that. Does he like the strong flavours or the mellow ones?

You: I’m not sure.

Me: All right. You could just get the Glenfiddich 12. It’s
decent and it’s cheap, but I think you ought to be a bit more adventurous. For
future reference, the Glenfiddich 12 is still a good scotch for a novice to buy
as a present. If it was me though, looking to buy a bottle of whisky as a
present, I would be getting the Highland Park 12. It’s single malt, it’s always
on offer, even at full price it’s a bargain, it comes in a funky bottle, it
tastes great and it’s known for being a quality product.

You: Oh right. That’s under budget.

Me: You can get yourself something nice with the change.

You: Thanks.

Me: No worries.

Highland Park 12... a great gift

That’s one way the scenario could play out. Let’s look at
some other eventualities though:

What if they haven’t got the Highland Park, or it’s not
on offer?

I’d always recommend going with an Islay malt. They’re among
the most interesting and you can usually get a decent one in the under £35
price range – the Laphroiag 10, the Caol Ila 12, Bruichladdich… I even got the
Lagavulin 16 for £35 once. If it says Islay on it, it’s probably going to be
good. The only drawback is that some people really
don’t like the Islay malts, but I think it’s worth the risk.

As I say, you can always fall back on the Glennfiddich 12.
Some like the Glenlivet 12 or the Aberlour 10 – they’re classy enough, but a little
generic for me.

Can you give me some general things to look for?

It’s a gift, so generally look for a single malt unless you
know your target doesn’t like single malt. If you don’t know, go for it.

Always go for one with an age statement, and make sure it’s
at least 10 years. Some younger whiskies are excellent, but you don’t know
enough to take the risk. Some without an age statement are good, but ages are
impressive – it’s psychological.

If it comes in a box, that also suggests quality. That’s not
necessarily the case but again, this is a gift, so boxes are good. Something
that comes in an interesting bottle is also good. Again, it doesn’t say
anything about the quality, but with gifts half the battle is presentation.

What should I avoid?

Definitely avoid the Glen Moray Classic. That’s just from
personal experience. Horrible. When I see people buying that, I want to ask “Have
you had that before? Cos if you haven’t, don’t”. My personal feeling is to
avoid anything that is too pale in colour – there are exceptions to that, but
we’re talking generalities. Also avoid Jura – it’s always on offer, so a very
popular gift, but in my opinion it’s not so good.

Now, just because I say ‘avoid the Glen Moray Classic’ that
doesn’t mean all Glen Morays are bad. Similarly, you can pick up a no age
statement Ledaig from some supermarkets that isn’t good. I consider the 10 year
old to be very good though.

Don’t get Jack Daniels – unless you’re buying for a very
young adult. That’s not to say it’s bad (I actually like it – very nice
mouthfeel), but many scotch drinkers are a bit snooty about it, possibly
because it is so commonly mixed with coke.

Definitely don’t get Southern Comfort. This is not
whisky – and I’m not being facetious here; it literally isn’t whisky. It’s a
peach liqueur with whisky flavouring. It’s surprising how many people don’t
know that.

If you know your target is a seasoned whisky drinker, your
task might be more difficult because their standards can be quite exacting, but
don’t worry; I’ll be offering some advice for buying whisky for the more
discerning drinker next week. Remember, when someone receives a gift though,
they want to be pleasantly surprised, not slightly disappointed. For this
reason I’d avoid brands that are a bit too obvious (and that the novice might
have heard of or seen on average drinks menus in restaurants) – for me, the
Glenlivet 10, Balvenie Double Wood, Glenfiddich 12 and the basic Glenmorangie
are a bit too obvious, but you could definitely do worse.

What if your budget is more modest?

I would aim to set your budget around £30-35 because you can
definitely do the job for that. Anyone who likes whisky is going to know you
spent £30-35, and they’re going to be all the more grateful for it. I
understand though, that if you’re buying a gift for a friend, £30 might seem a
little steep. You might have been thinking £20. If you were, don’t panic, just
don’t be thinking about getting a single malt – unless you want to buy a 35cl
bottle. That’s perfectly acceptable. The recipient will still appreciate the
effort – and of course, it means you can get something even more special.

However, don’t be scared of going for a blend. A lot of
basic blends are good, but if you can just go up one step to the next level,
you’re going to be more likely to get one that your target hasn’t tried, or
that is a little more interesting. Grants, Whyte and MacKay, Ballantine’s and Dewar’s
all make decent, reasonably priced blends, and there are many more obscure ones
that are worth a pop. Even a whisky aficionado can find a use for a basic
blend. I always keep one for the times when I just don’t feel like getting the
special stuff out, or as a precursor earlier in the evening. If you can chance
across one that they haven’t tried before, you will have done very well because
at least that’s one they can tick off their mental list. But don’t get the
Johnnie Walker Red, Bells, Teachers, Famous Grouse or anything that says
“bottled for [insert supermarket]” on the label. Not that there’s necessarily anything particularly bad
about any of those, but you are buying a gift.

Conclusion

That at least, would be my advice. People all like different
things, and there are no right and wrong opinions when it comes to whisky.
Personally though, I think some whiskies exist just because people don’t know
what to buy, so they all make sales to some degree. I don’t know – would a
business be able to survive on that principal? Surely you have to rely on
repeat customers. As I get more into whisky though, I find I seldom buy any bottle
more than once because there’s always more to try. Caol Ila does well out of
me, because I’ve bought four of their expressions so far, and I always
recommend it to friends. In fact, usually when I like a whisky, I remember it
as one to possibly buy as a gift for a friend, rather than one to buy again for
me.

Perhaps one day I will have tried nearly everything (in my
price range), and will just want to buy something I like with my money. There
was a time when I bought different beer every time I bought a pint or some
cans. Now I just buy what I like – though I have gotten into trying IPAs
recently. I’m a long way off reaching that point with whisky, so we’ll just
have to see how and when things pan out.

So, now if you find yourself at Tesco, and if you can
remember any of this, you’re going to do all right. You could also have a look
at the Whisky Exchange for specific brands but remember; you’re not going to be
able to find most of those in your local supermarket. Finally, don’t be afraid
to ask if another customer looks like they know what they’re doing. It might be
me, and even if it’s not, anyone who is enthusiastic about whisky is going to
be delighted to be able to share a bit of the knowledge.

Good luck, and don’t forget to come back next week when I’ll
be considering how you can buy with confidence for the whisky enthusiast in
your family.

Postscript

Last Sunday my whisky advice fantasy almost came true. It was shopping day in the Cake household and,
feeling a bit down, I thought adding a trip to Tesco to the regular Aldi shop
in order to pick up a cut price Grant’s Sherry Cask Edition that I’d seen on
offer the day before might cheer me up. A quick preparatory glance through my
wallet and on the fridge revealed that we had £7 in vouchers – though we had to
spend at least £40 to recoup one of them. Also in my favour was that I’d
stashed £10 away in my booze budget, and then found a farewell fiver in the
back pocket of my favourite jeans. I say “farewell fiver” because it was during
that shopping trip that they developed a split in the back and threatened to
show more and more bum cleavage every time I had to reach down to a low shelf…

Well, as you know, Christmas is approaching and Mrs Cake
thought maybe she could get some whisky for her dad and brother… that sounds
bad; they aren’t the same person. Yes, I
would be delighted to help with that.

Mrs Cake isn’t really one for taking advice. She has her own
mind you see, so it wasn’t as simple as me offering a suggestion and her taking
it, but in the end she did follow my recommendations despite battling me all
the way.

The Highland Park 12 was on offer, and I persuaded her that
that would be a good choice for her dad, because it’s “excellent”. He doesn’t
like peaty whiskies, and of the ones available in this price range, this was
definitely the best choice in my opinion. He had said previously that he likes
a 16 year old Glenmorangie, but they didn’t have that (it doesn’t seem to
exist), and I doubt the price would have been anywhere near comparable (if it
did exist).

Buying for the brother was a little trickier since I
remembered he had wanted to drink the Crown Royal Black I took to his house a
couple of years ago… with coke. So I maintained that we should get him
something he can mix, and that meant a blend. Mrs Cake wanted to get something
they wouldn’t be able to get in Canada, but in Tesco there isn’t really
anything you couldn’t get in Canada. I advised her to go for the Grant’s Ale
Cask Edition as that was on offer too. I don’t actually know what that one is
like yet, but it is a step up (price-wise) from the standard Family Reserve and therefore makes a
slightly better present than a standard cheap blend. I don’t think Brian is all
that knowledgeable about scotch anyway, so we didn’t need to stress to much
about it… though I suppose that remains to be seen. Perhaps I’ll follow up this
post after Christmas and let you know how we did. To be fair, I probably won’t
know how we did for the father-in-law until next year when he sends the bottle
back hoping we won’t notice it’s the one we bought him. And if that happened… I
would be delighted...

Sunday, 17 November 2013

The Alco-Shops
feature is where I attempt to make you aware of interesting and useful places
that you can use for buying booze, and with Christmas approaching, I thought
I’d start a sequence of three posts that might help you out with your Christmas
shopping, which officially started this week. So I want to introduce you to
HotUKDeals, if you aren’t already aware of it, then next week (and the week
after) I’ll move on to giving you some whisky buying advice, before moving on
to some festive drinking activities. After that I’ll be in Canada indulging in
some booze tourism while I visit the in-laws, but I will be back in January to
start Drink It How You Like It’s
third year of existence. How time flies when you’re drinking heavily…

Hotukdeals is
basically a member site (though you don’t have to be a member) where people
post all the bargains they’ve found online and in the shops. It covers nearly
all genres of stuff, though some of
the items make you wonder how people can be bothered to post about them at all
(what?!). It could be something as inane as a Cadburys Crème Egg for 25p in
Spar, or at the complete opposite end of the spectrum it could be a speedboat
for £9000, reduced from £13500. This can be an invaluable resource when the
time comes around for you to be thinking about what to buy people for
Christmas. Sometimes you just don’t know what to get, do you? Well, just have a
browse and you’ll be given bargain present ideas, and directed to various
vouchers and sales.

More relevant to
this blog though, is that you also get posts about cheap booze - one of the
users actually provides a price comparison across a number of spirits in the
main supermarkets, so that can be quite useful, especially if you’re stocking
up for a party.

Occasionally you’ll
see something you actually have to go
and get. It niggles at you and forces you to go way out of your way, and the
while time you’re on edge – what if
they’ve run out by the time I get there?

I was recently
forced to abscond from work for 45 minutes so that I could walk over to the
nearest Asda where HotUKDeals had informed me they were selling bottles of
Bruichladdich Rocks for £20 – an offer I couldn’t refuse. The normal price was
quoted around £26, but I’ve seen it priced around £30 previously. The 20cl
bottle my brother-in-law had given me the previous Christmas went down a treat,
and I’d promised myself I’d buy a full size bottle the next time I got a
chance. Well, here it was.

It did conflict with
the other vow I’d made to myself about not buying another bottle until next
month, but for some things you gots to make exceptions, and since it was a
beautiful day, it made sense to sit out in the garden with it as soon as I got
home.

Bruichladdich Rocks in the garden. Thanks. Hotukdeals!

In general
HotUKDeals is the sort of place that is worth checking every day if you get
chance. Aside from being useful for providing present ideas, it’s saved me an
unquantifiable amount of money in the years I’ve been visiting it. Equally it
has probably inspired me to part with almost the same amount in buying things
that I certainly wasn’t intending to buy before, but just seemed like too good
a deal to miss ( I don’t know what I’m going to do with that speed
boat…). It’s only money, isn’t it? You won’t even remember it next month.

Saturday, 9 November 2013

Christmas before
last, the [then] soon to be Mrs Cake bought me my first Whisky guide; 101
Whiskies to Try Before You Die, which I have referenced on this blog
previously, and even dissected in great detail. You may remember (or be
interested to know, if you don’t want to read any of my previous pieces) that,
while I found the contents of that book fascinating, I was finding its
recommendations to be disappointing. It left me wondering where to turn for
advice when it came to buying a new bottle (this was long before getting
involved in the local Manchester Whisky Club), so when the missus asked what I
would like for Christmas last year, I said a new whisky guide. She duly
obliged, and what she came up with was Jim Murray’s Whisky Bible 2013.

I’ve dipped into
this many times already, and wow, he sure has a lot to say. And boy, does he
like whisky. I mean, I like whisky, but leafing through these pages that
contain reviews (some brief, some less so) of over 4500 whiskies, I started to
think that maybe I don’t like whisky all that much after all. Why?
Notwithstanding that I would be bored of anything if I’d had to try 4500
varieties of it; the first thing is Jim’s scoring system.

He scores each
whisky out of 25 for nose, taste, finish and balance, and combines these scores
to give a total out of 100. I’ve been wondering why he scores them out of 25,
and can only conclude that this is for the express purpose of combining to make
a score out of 100 and when you think about it, when you have over 4000
contenders, awarding up to 5 stars just doesn’t seem adequate. Similarly, scoring
each component out of 5 to make a total score out of 20 wouldn’t do; more
separation is necessary.

Where this logic
falls apart though (apart from the idea that four different components should
be weighted equally), is that from what I’ve read so far (that’s all the
section on single malt scotch, blended scotch, Irish whisky and selected
highlights of the rest), the lowest score any individual whisky achieved was in
the mid 50s – and that was an
anomaly, most of the others are in the 80s and 90s. The next lowest is
something like 68*.

Now, 68% isn’t going
to get you an A in your GCSEs, but it will get you a good second class degree
and it isn’t that bad – in fact, you’d be disappointed you hadn’t gotten a
first if you’d been averaging 68. It works out to an average of 17 out of 25
for each component, and I think 17 out of 25 is pretty good. If you scored that
in each round of a pub quiz (probably the only other thing I can think of that
could possibly be scored out of 25), you would probably win. I don’t see then,
how there can’t be a whisky that’s so bad it only scores 32. Even Aldi’s Higland
Earl, about which Murray says, 'I would have scored this higher if
it had been labelled grain whisky; the malt is silent' scores 77.

Murray has written
an editorial at the beginning, in which he bemoans the practice of using sherry
casks that have been sterilised with sulphur candles. Apparently this has been
going on for 20 years, and for some reason few people in the distilling
industry are aware that it is ruining whole generations of scotch. Murray is
well aware of it though. He can smell and taste the sulphur, and he says that
there are a number of whiskies, aged in sherry casks, that have been ruined by
this practice – ruined. Yet he won’t score any of them below 50 out of
100.

I’m not saying he’s
making this shit about sulphur up. I believe him (though I’m yet to experience
it myself). I just think maybe his scoring should be more reflective of that.
Is it a bad whisky? Yes. So shouldn’t something that is actually bad be scored
say, less than 50%?

Some time ago I
received a particular bottle as a present which shall remain a secret so as to
protect the feelings of the generous donor. I tried my very best to like it,
but seriously, it was the worst whisky I have ever tasted. It tasted metallic,
and that metallic taste just dominated everything.

I was keen to see
what Jim Murray thought when I received his book, so it was one of the first
things I looked up. I could see there are actually a lot of bottlings by this
distillery, and many score in the high 80s and into the 90s.

Pretty good, but I
can see that the one I had tried scored in the middle 80s. Surely that couldn’t
be right? That’s actually better than a number of (to my mind) finer
whiskies that I’ve enjoyed very much – like the Glenfarclas 10.

What’s more, it’s
one of the Sherry Cask editions that received the lowest overall score of 50
something. So mine was supposed to be nice. I’ve checked, and sulphur
isn’t metallic, so that’s probably not what I was tasting. So what does this
mean? Presumably it means this distillery’s output isn’t to my personal taste, and perhaps I
should follow my original intention to avoid purchasing any further bottlings,
at least until I’ve tried one that I like.

Murray goes on to
say that many people can’t taste or smell sulphur anyway… perhaps I’m one of
them? Though I’m sure I’ve smelled sulphur at some point in my life previously
– it stinks doesn’t it? Like rotten eggs?

I suppose I still
have to find out whether I’m susceptible to having my whisky ruined by sulphur.
I don’t think I’ve tried many that
have been aged in sherry casks, and I haven’t been able to detect it in the few
I have tried. Some distilleries don’t use casks contaminated in this way
anyway, but it seems the only way of knowing which ones do is by reading Jim’s
book, so while it’s tempting to avoid any sherry cask whiskies, those have been
the ones I’ve been enjoying in random samplings so… I don’t know what to do.
I’m certainly reluctant to spend more than £40 on a sherried scotch anyway…

So as I said, Jim
seems to love his whisky far more than I do. If I go to a tasting and try 6
different whiskies, instead of coming away with an idea of what I might buy
next time, I come away with a list of 6 whiskies I’m not going to spend my hard-earned on. He’s a real enthusiast, with
some refreshing viewpoints, occasionally witty, and he doesn’t come across as a
whisky snob. What gives me that idea? He loves blends. In fact, he claims that
he judges blends by stricter standards than single malts, since he thinks that
in blending you should be able to achieve so much more.

I’m not sure I’m inclined
to agree, since most blends include a hefty proportion of grain whisky (50 or
60%), that from what I can tell has a harsh taste that has somewhat tended to
stand out - or at least lope about conspicuously
in the background - in many of the blends I’ve tried (I haven’t tried any
particularly expensive ones as yet).

Jim should know
better than me though, and that doesn’t bother him. He’s clearly a fan of the
grain whisky too (he’s included a section for reviewing grain whiskies, and
they also score well), but he’s especially a fan of the blend. Bells, Teachers,
Aldi’s Highland Black, The Black Grouse… they all score really well –
especially the Black Grouse, which manages a stunning 94.5. I certainly wasn’t
that impressed by it, but clearly I must be an idiot.

He reviews just
about everything, and that’s part of what makes this book so accessible. If
you’re something of a newcomer to whisky, and you pick up 101 Whiskies to
Try Before You Die, you might find you’ve tried two or three, so you don’t
have much of a reference point for the rest of the book, but you do have a lot
of catching up to do. Because Jim Murray reviews everything (a further
1350 new whiskies were tried for this edition alone – did he try four a day for
a year? And if so, doesn’t that cast some doubt on the reliability of the
review?), there’s already a whole slew of things in there that you’re familiar
with, and you can while away a good deal of your Christmas holiday downtime
just flicking through it.

There is no price
guide however, so you can’t really use it to plan your next purchase in
advance, unless you happen to be accessing the internet at the same time. That
also means that all whiskies are judged to the same standards, which is good in
one way, but less so when you want to consider value because, let’s face it; it
makes a difference. No, this whisky isn’t
as good as that one, but this one was £13 while that one costs £100. I’m
yet to determine whether any whisky can justify an astronomical price tag when
I could buy one of my current favourites for £35 to £45.

You might find, like
I often did, that Jim doesn’t rate your favourite whiskies as highly as you do,
but you know, that’s fine. It’s actually refreshing how he’ll review something
like Lidl’s own brand scotch, and score it really well. It gives you the
confidence to buy that staggeringly cheap blend, and actually think that it
might be ok because someone of his standing is willing to try it, review it
with the same attention that he devotes to premium brands, and score it well.

But this is also the
problem, though perhaps only for me. I don’t fall in love with every whisky I
try. Perhaps I’m setting my standards too high, but if not disappointed, I’m
often non-plussed when I try a new whisky, and all I’m doing is searching for
that special and sadly rare liquor that I’m going to savour to the very last
drop and perhaps even pine for when it’s gone – or want to buy again instead of
trying something entirely new. That’s not too much to ask, is it?

Sometimes I feel I’m
not even enjoying my glass of scotch,
so I certainly wouldn’t be scoring nearly everything in excess of 80 out of 100
(that’s 4 out of 5, which if we were talking books, films or music would
signify an excellent score – assuming you reserve top marks for the very select
few, as I would).

Don’t think I’m
having a go here, because this book is fascinating, but rather than answering
all the questions, it leaves me with more.

Get this; it’s
supposed to be a whisky bible, so
you’d think therefore, that it will be a reference text you can rely on. But
no. The impression I get from reading it is that Jim’s opinion of whisky can
vary greatly over time – even on something as standard as a bottle of The
Famous Grouse. He might say something like, “this has improved greatly since
the last time I tried it…”

Now I know the
quality of whisky can vary to some extent from one bottling to another, but
you’d expect a blend to be pretty consistent. My enjoyment of a whisky can vary
from one tasting to the next –from the same bottle. So Jim is clearly
well able to rely on his tasting faculties, and treat his conclusions as
absolute.

If I tried a glass
of the Famous Grouse on one occasion and thought it average, but tried another
one another time, and liked it, I’d assume it was something to do with myself
or the specific circumstances. Jim just says, “this bottle is better than that
one I had last time” – presumably because the method described in his tasting
guide is so infallible.

When Jim says in his
review of Johnnie Walker Red though, that he had one at an airport and he was
overcome by peat, and that it was the earthiest he had tasted in decades… are we to assume he followed all the preliminary steps of his tasting guide, or was
his impression open to the same chaos elements that are present when you don’t
drink a strong coffee first, find a room with no distractions, haven't recently washed your hands, or have a glencairn glass (does he request one even in airports?) to hand?

Regardless of
instances like this, how can you rely on Jim’s recommendation when you might be
buying a bottle from the batch he didn’t like? How are you supposed to know?

Another problem is
that sometimes it’s difficult to know whether you’ve got a particular bottle. Case
in point; Bladnoch 10 yr old. He scores it brilliantly, which pleased me
because I’d acquired a quarter of a bottle. On closer inspection though, he
specifies that it’s a ‘Flora and Fauna’ bottling, which my bottle didn’t give
any indication of being. Then I noticed that he had specified that his was
bottled at 43%, while my bottle stated 46%, so clearly they weren’t the same.
How different are they? Well, I don’t know, but I suppose it doesn’t matter too
much because the bottle I’ve got is very classy; delicate and sweet (just
how I like my women).

A look at The Whisky
Exchange provided an answer – my bottle retails at around £35, while the ‘Flora
and Fauna’ bottling, which is the last Diageo bottling is listed (at time of
writing) at £75. It would be nice to know without having to do further research
though – I’m used to books giving all the information, not just part of
it. I’d also like to know, given that the Flora and Fauna bottling that
Murray is reviewing gets 94 out of 100, what mine would score – but I’m not
going to buy the 2014 guide to find out (I’ll just have a quick look in
Waterstones…).

Examples like this
are endemic throughout the book. Is this the bottle I’ve got? Is this the
bottle I’m considering buying at my local whisky specialist? Is this the
particular bottling I picked up at that distillery? He doesn’t provide quite
enough information to be able to make you sure (see also Suntory Hakushu 12,
later).

Again, I’m not
denying Jim’s credentials. He certainly drops enough knowledge and has a lot to
say. I don’t think you can fake that, it just means I can’t necessarily rely on
the information in the book from one year to the next. What if next year, I buy
a bottle of something based on Jim’s recommendation, but it turns out to be
terrible, only I didn’t know because Jim’s review wasn’t current enough, or I
got an older bottling, or perhaps he changed his opinion in 2014’s guide?

So as I say,
extremely interesting, but perhaps a bible to be treated with the same
reverence that a modern, non-church-going Christian would treat their Bible.
That is, Adam and Eve? I don’t think so. Don’t be getting all Westboro Baptists’ Church about this.

Jim is drawing on 30
years of tasting experience, and he does point out that his scores are very
personal, and based upon that. He obviously has a deep familiarity with many of
the distilleries and brands that he is reviewing, and bases his score around
what he has come to expect from any single producer – so there is ultimately
little chance that you would agree with all that much.

To be fair, it
doesn’t make the book any less useful or interesting, so I’m just going to have
to take it for what it is, and get on with it.

Now, I still haven’t
quite seen the point in adding water to whisky, as I know a lot of whisky
experts tell you to do – except in the case of cask strength expressions, of
course. I understand, and from experimentation with Caol Ila’s cask strengthvariety, agree that the strength of the alcohol is likely to overpower the
subtle flavours and aromas in the whisky. One thing that strikes me as strange
then about Jim’s book is that he asserts that he tests every whisky, as it is.
He doesn’t add ice or water, and the rationale is that there can be no
discrepancy between what he is tasting and what you are. That’s great until you
think that he must be reviewing the cask strength whiskies under those same
guidelines. So how can he provide a sound review of a cask strength whisky –
some of which are more than 60% ABV, and intended for the addition of water –
when most of its subtleties and nuances are being masked by strong alcohol?
Well, presumably he can’t.

He could add half a
measure of water to a double measure of cask strength whisky though, and specify
that he did. But no. Surely, if his reviews are supposed to hold water (so
to speak), he needs to try several stages of dilution and then comment on the
overall quality, so that it doesn’t matter whether you add the same amount of
water as he does. It’s just one of those things that you’d think a whisky
aficionado would have to address – what’s the point in me reviewing this if I’m
not allowing it to develop fully?

I suspect that Jim
is experienced enough to be able to provide a full review of a whisky from one
taste, whereas I would have to drink the whole bottle before giving a
definitive (and admittedly less detailed) review.

I suppose the
ultimate indicator of how good a guidebook is, is in the results of using it. Did
you agree with its recommendations? I have had chance now to dip into it and
use it for research when I know what kind of thing I’m looking for, and just
require something to give me a definite push one way or another, and as I said,
because it’s scope is so extensive, I’ve already formed opinions on some of its
subjects, so let’s break this down to specifics. Here’s some comments on some
of the whiskies both Jim and I have tried:

Laphroaig 10/Quarter Cask

Laphroaig 10 was one
of the first whiskies I ever tried, and I immediately fell in love with it, but
the Quarter Cask I actually felt was lacking in everything that made the 10 so
great. Jim scores the 10 year old 90 (while noting that it is a favourite of
Prince Charles), and the Quarter Cask 96.

Caol Ila 12/18

12 is one of my
absolute favourites – sweet, smoky and luxurious – and as such provides a
benchmark for the opinions of anyone that reviews whisky. What I’m essentially
saying is if you don’t rate the Caol Ila
12, your opinion means nothing to me.
The 18 year old on the other hand was quite a disappointment, with a
bitter finish that belied it’s extravagant price tag. That currently stands as
the most expensive bottle I ever bought.

In Murray’s book,
the 12 scores what is in my opinion, a modest 89 while the 18 scores only 80 –
with the stipulation that there is too much oil. 80 seems quite fair, and
consistent with Jim’s scoring system.

Black Grouse

This one doesn’t
just come recommended by Jim; it’s also in the 101 Whiskies… guide. I just don’t get what all the fuss is about.
Jim calls it “a real treasure” and scores it a 94. Frankly that’s shocking. If
you read that, and then see you can get it for £18, you’re going to buy it,
aren’t you? Sorry, but there is no way this is better than the Laphroaig 10 and the Caol Ila 12. No way – even when you
take the price into account.

Talisker 10

Another that is
almost universally recommended. I think it’s decent but I’m not overly enthused.
Jim rates it almost as highly as the Black Grouse, with a 93. He also tastes
some Cumberland sausage in there. For the record, I think it is way better than
the Black Grouse, but would still score it below a 93… were I able to put
numerical values on these things.

Glenmorangie Original

I was surprised to
find I enjoyed this very much. Great value. Jim calls it one of the greats, and
scores it a 94. I’m not sure it’s that good,
but still…

Cutty Sark

I think Jim and I
are actually in synch here. Distinctly average, I felt. Not bad for the price I
paid, I suppose, but not worth the price you pay in the UK. Jim says it has a
‘nipping furriness’, which I’m not going to disagree with despite not having
any way of truly knowing what he means, and gives it 78.

Glenfarclas 10

I enjoyed this very
much, but here it scores only 80, and is described as “sweaty” with an odd
finish.

Suntory Hakushu 12

I bought this based
largely on Jim’s recommendation, though that recommendation was supported by a
number of online sources. I did enjoy it, but didn’t quite feel it lived up to
the hype. There are three Hakushu 12s listed in Jim’s book. The only way I
could identify which one might be mine was by the ABV of 43%. That is actually
the best of the three, scoring 95.5. It is apparently one of the most complex
and clever 12 year olds in the world, though I felt it had a slight bitterness
in the finish that detracted from its oily mouthfeel and sweet entry.

DYC 8

One I actually
sought out, based on Jim’s recommendation. I can’t understand what he saw in
it. 90 points, ‘clean and cleverly constructed’. I would score it much lower
and change ‘clean and cleverly constructed’ to ‘aniseedy and weird’. I rank it
as the worst blend I’ve ever owned and the second worst overall whisky.

Ardbeg 10

This is an immense malt and I can only agree with
Jim’s glowing opinion of it. 97 points he gives it. I have no problem with that
other than that there are only 3 more points a whisky can occupy to be better
than it. So it can only possibly get 3 better than Ardbeg 10.

Ballantine’s Finest

A little research I
did recently for an upcoming post featuring Balantine’s Finest found that customer
reviews on whisky retail sites held it in high regard while bloggers and more
formal critics… didn’t. For the record, I have been enjoying the Finest very
much, and would place it at 3rd in my all time blended scotch
rankings. Jim calls it the work of a blender at the top of its game and scores
it 96. I don’t think it’s quite that good – again, when compared with lower
scores for Laphroaig and Caol Ila, and especially when he claims to score
blends more harshly than single malts.

Conclusion

So what can you take
away from this? Certainly that you can’t treat the guide as an all-knowing
oracle that you could rely on to find you a delicious whisky, but you can still
refer to it from time to time. It’s all about figuring out what you think for
yourself anyway, isn’t it?

Jim has a lot to
teach you, and will show you that you still have a lot to learn. He’s not going
to reveal all the secrets of the universe but now at least now you know how big
the universe is (fucking big). Go out and explore for yourself and see if you
can’t discover a few things that aren’t even in the book.

*In fact, the lowest it gets is New Zealand's Kiwi Whisky which scores only 37.

That's it for this week. If you made it this far, thanks for reading. Next week, I promise, will be shorter. Till then.

Sunday, 3 November 2013

If you’ve ever
bought a bottle of strong alcohol in the southern European country of Spain,
there’s a good chance you’ve been confronted with what I can only describe as a
booze resistor. Here it is. It is
essentially a plastic nozzle that has been inserted and fastened in the top of
the bottle. It works in a manner similar to the way an electrical resistor
works, in that it prevents some of the current (in this case, booze) from
coming out into your glass which - let’s face it – is where you want the
fucking stuff.

I have no idea what
these are for, as they seem to have no
fucking purpose whatsoever. Do correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t see
what can be useful about a device that facilitates:

Not being able to get the liquid out the first time you open the
bottle.

Having to turn the bottle completely upside down and shake
vigorously on all subsequent pours (assuming you managed a first pour at
all) in order to eke out even an impotent trickle.

Always spilling a couple of drops. It’s hard enough getting a couple of drops out in the first place!
How come a couple always have to jump to the side of the glass also?!?

Shake it, fiddle
with it, try to break it… you’re not winning with this device. Why, the country of Spain, why?

If there is a
logical reason or purpose and I’m just
too stupid to get it, I sure would like to know. Over to you.

Tuesday, 29 October 2013

I had a pleasant surprise one Saturday, when a visit to my
parents resulted in receiving a new bottle of whisky. Apparently my dad had
been emptying out the pantry because they needed to find storage space for some
things that had been displaced by the arrival of a dishwasher, and he found
some booze hidden away in there – you wouldn’t get that in my house. I
was invited to take a look – like one of those experts they get in on Cash
in the Attic.

First out were 20cl bottles of Gordon’s Gin and Smirnoff
vodka. Pretty standard, and no more than I had expected. I would have been
happy to take these off their hands – I’m not a big fan of Smirnoff, or the
whole genre of gin, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have requirements – nevertheless,
my mum laid claim to those, for drinking with orange or tonic or whatever – she
doesn’t normally, and actually had to ask me what she could mix vodka with. The
answer? Nearly anything.

Far more interesting than those anyway, was what came out of
the pantry next: White Horse blended scotch (40% ABV). It’s not a brand you
hear much about, being as it is, more popular and readily available in overseas
markets. I had heard of it though, from a brief perusal of sub-£20 blends on
The Whisky Exchange (£18.55 + P&P, btw). Reviews were exclusively good so
I’d made a mental note to keep an eye out for it next time I was looking to buy
a blend.

It scores an impressive 90.5 in Jim Murray’s 2013 Whisky
Bible, is made up of 40% malt whisky, and has as its base, the excellent
Lagavulin single malt. I read somewhere though, that it is actually blended
from around 40 malts in total. Does that mean each malt comprises only 1% of
the resulting blend?

Where did this buried treasure come from? Apparently it all
used to belong to my granddad… who died about 15 years ago. None of the bottles
have been opened, so it should be fine – despite the fact that there looks to
be a lot of air at the top of my bottle – perhaps some of it had evaporated? I’ve
read before that whisky will taste as good as when it was bottled for hundreds
of years, as long as the bottle remains unopened. And now this particular
bottle belongs to me and there is no longer any chance of it remaining unopened
for hundreds of years. I give it a week or two at most.

I don’t know if you’ve ever had this experience, but when my
grand parents learned they were not much longer for this world, they started
asking me if there was anything of theirs I wanted. I said that I would like
whatever they specifically wanted to give me. The person is more important to
me than their stuff. A word of advice for you though, if an elderly relative of
yours asks you this question, think about saying, “I wouldn’t mind having your
booze”. You never know, you might get something valuable. Worst case scenario:
some bottles of booze.

Something else my granddad did as the end approached was to
try to give me the benefit of some useful things he had learned. One was about
changing a tyre, that I’ve sadly forgotten, and the other was about how to
emerge from a shower cubicle in winter without feeling the cold.

White Horse, I see, is one of Diageo’s blends, though my
internet research so far has not revealed for how long Diageo has produced this
particular brand. Diageo was formed in 1997 from a merger between Guinness and
Grand Metropolitan, and that’s probably roughly around the time this particular
bottle was produced, though nowhere on it is the name Diageo mentioned,
and to be fair, my granddad could have had it for quite sometime before he
passed on anyway. It remains to be seen then, whether this bottle is
representative of the White Horse brand you might be able to buy today, since
I’ll need to buy a new bottle to determine that.

Have you ever inherited any booze? I remember now that when
my Grandma died, I was given a litre bottle of Teachers so, you know, it would
be interesting to know what gets left behind at the end of a person’s life. If
you were proper into whisky you’d probably make sure you were finishing the
good stuff in your last days – or maybe there are more important considerations
for the terminally ill. Would you drink the good stuff, leaving the Teachers,
or would you save something special for the end?

A Few Weeks Later…

So, what about this White Horse, then? I broke the seal and
gave it a first tasting the night of the Confederations Cup Final, and was
impressed right away. In the glass, it looks simply beautiful. There’s
something about that rich hue that shimmers invitingly in kitchen lighting
conditions. Incidentally, I'm sorry but I don't seem to have taken a picture of the bottle. I don't know how that happened.

As I said, it is supposed to be founded on Lagavulin, and
while I can’t say I detect that in there specifically, there is a definite feel
of Islay. This is a nice blend – not as great as the Jim McEwan’s Symphony that
rocketed right to the top of my blend league – but approaching that level of
complexity and refinement.

After a couple of tastings I started to detect vanilla on
the nose – like the Bladnoch 10 that I had some time ago. Grainy elements also
started to show through on the finish, where I hadn’t been able to detect them
before. In spite of that, on the blended scotch scale it sits closer to the
delicate sweetness of the Jim McEwan’s Symphony than it does to what I consider
standard budget blend fare where sweetness is lacking and instead the spirit
seems rough and unpleasant .

Perhaps not one to bring out when the single malt snobs come
round, but I wouldn’t use it for mixing. It’s definitely one to consider if
you’re looking for a decent blend on a budget.

I see from looking at my stats today that this is my 100th
post. Go me. Thanks everyone that has popped by whether it by to read, look at
a picture or whether it was entirely by accident. And apologies for my
tardiness. I’ve not been so good at posting regularly of late, but I’ll keep
trying. See you next week (or later this week) for something else.

Sunday, 20 October 2013

In a change to this week’s planned post that I did myself
the favour of not advertising in advance, I’m going to take you back now to some
“research” that I did in July of this year. And by “research”, I mean drinking
heavily and playing golf in Spain - an event that we chose to christen Golfadeggon. San Javier in Murcia, was the location, where
there are more British per capita than there are in Manchester. That’s not necessarily
a fact; it’s just intended to give you an impression of how many British people
live and visit there. You don’t need a word of Spanish, but I found that you
can mightily impress the locals with just a tiny bit – one taxi driver was
bowled over when I handed him a two euro tip and said, “para ousted.”

“Oh-ho-ho! Speak Spanish!”

“Uh… un poco.”

With our flight at around 3pm, plans were made to meet at
the airport at 12.15 – for ‘a few scoops’. When I got that message from Chris,
I thought he meant he wanted to play golf before we went (if you knew him,
you’d understand), so I said, “no, I’d best not; I don’t want to mess up my
game before we even get there.”

A couple of days later I asked what time he wanted to meet
at the airport, and he asked if I’d been drunk the other night, since he’d
already told me – 12.15.

I wasn’t, as it happens, but now I understand what “a few scoops”
is; it’s a few drinks. I suppose that should go in the Booze Terminology
section…

So it came to pass that the four of us – myself, David,
Chris and John – met in the upstairs bar in Terminal 1 of Manchester Airport,
where they actually have some interesting beers on tap. I stuck with Amstel –
little did I know it would be wall to wall Amstel in San Javier, where it was
an astonishing 2.2 euros per pint up and down the strip.

One night I asked if they had any Spanish lager, whereupon
the English waiter said, “Amstel”, to which I replied, “Amstel isn’t Spanish”
and Chris chimed in with, “It’s Dutch.”

“Is it?” said the waiter. “I literally had no idea that was
the case.”

Amstel it was, then.

We did pick up some Estrella in the supermarket, but it
wasn’t the red kind you get in Barcelona. Instead the cans were green, and
looked to have been brewed in Murcia. Later, at the airport, we found some red
cans and discovered that the red variety is a noteworthy 5.4% ABV, while the
green is a disappointing-but-still-not-to-be-sniffed-at 4.8%.

Unfortunately, the green one isn’t as tasty as the red.

I was a little disappointed at the beer choices because I
like Spanish lager; Estrella, San Miguel, Cruzcampo, Alhambra, Mahou… they’re
all good. I suppose that’s what you get for going to a largely British resort.
Still, at least it wasn’t a choice between Carling and Fosters.

Since we were staying in an apartment on the golf complex –
as far from both the course itself, and the actual town as it was possible to
be… we made it top priority to get supplies in on the first night. I knew that
soft drinks, beer, bacon, eggs and bread would all be essential, but was
surprised to see everyone else’s baskets piled high with biscuits, sweets and
chocolate. I didn’t even pick up a basket because all I wanted was beer, whisky
and perhaps aguardiente de orujo.

DYC 10...

...and in the shower

John had located a Spanish single malt, DYC 10 year old,
while I was still seeking out the booze aisle. “I want that. Where did you find
it?”

I hotfooted it off to get one of my own. It’s packaged in a
chunky Bruichladdich style bottle, weighs in at a standard 40% and cost under
15 euros.

That very evening I cracked it open, eased out the oversized
cork, and sampled the malty goodness. I had actually been looking for the DYC 8
year old blend that scored a remarkable 90 in Jim Murray’s 2013 Whisky Bible [clean
and cleverly constructed, he says, “Just so enjoyable!”]… but they didn’t have
that. I figured a 10 year old single malt must surely be even more interesting,
though I didn’t recall reading anything about it in the guide. Well, we all
liked it anyway. Light-bodied and easy-drinking, we would get through three
bottles of this between us over the course of the week.

David also bought a Spanish blended whisky called John Cor.
That one was under 5 euros, and John confessed to preferring it over the DYC.

I uh… don’t remember too much about the John Cor. It
certainly wasn’t bad – for 5 euros – but I don’t think I’d want to pay too much
more for it. Spirits are so cheap in Spain as a matter of course that you don’t
ever need to buy anything that cheap. It becomes more the sort of thing that
you go, “well, if this is only 11 euro, I may as well also get this
at 5 euro”, because it’s still cheaper than a bottle of Bells at home,
and you’re getting two interesting new bottles.

Chris' Johnnie Walker Red (after a day)

Chris went for a Johnnie Walker Red, which he finished off
in a little over two days – with coke, I might add – but he can’t drink beer
like the rest of us and cider can be hard to find in Spain, so he had to have something
to rely on.

As a result of all this freely flowing booze, my poor
hipflask didn’t get a look-in. One swig on the first day was all it got, and
ever after it was just sat on the kitchen counter. I had considered taking it
on a round of golf with me, but the need to maximise my performance asserted
itself from day one, and by the 5th of the 6 rounds I had started
playing the best golf of my life and didn’t want to jeopardise getting a great
score.

I did get my best ever score for the course we played (which
I had played 5 times previously, two years ago) – 118, but it still wasn’t a great score. And that wasn’t even on the
days when I was playing my best golf! On the best days I was striking the ball
beautifully, but hitting all the hazards and getting some rotten luck. Still, I
now feel great about golf again – no doubt until my next round, when I’ll
realise I’ve forgotten the technique that started working so well for me.

Our general routine for the next week revolved around golf, booze
and food. If we had a morning round it would be up and out, a breakfast of
Coca-Cola and chocolate, followed by lunch and a couple of pints at the
clubhouse after the golf, before swimming, cans, possibly a snooze, and a
shower at the apartment before heading to the main drag where the evening would
be spent eating and drinking at the various bars and restaurants.

We took in some of the entertainment, which was limited to
one-man tribute acts singing to recordings, and in one place for which we had
free drinks vouchers, a Michael Jackson act that was a guy dancing to a live
Michael Jackson video… Chris spent about an hour at the bar trying to get our
free mojitos in there.

If we had an afternoon round, it would be a lie in, followed
by lounging around, golf, a couple of pints at the clubhouse, a shower and
straight out for dinner and more drinks. I tried to take a whisky into the
shower with me every day, as any good alcothusiast should.

We got a couple of games of poker in, using lightweight
Monopoly money instead of chips, but I was having no luck. I think we were all
pretty smashed by the time we got down to it anyway, so there was far less
caution and far less tension that there usually is.

Time at the clubhouse and on the strip was invariably
accompanied by an opening period of silence as everyone got onto the various
free wi-fi and played Super Stickman Golf 2 and Wordfeud – intermittently
glancing up to watch for passing freaks and ghouls. The pints go down easy, and
the food, while unadventurous, is good. Being lads, we nary saw a vegetable the
whole time we were there. It was pretty much meat, chips and bread all the way.

So 108 holes of golf, and seven days after arrival, the day
of departure came. It was beer for breakfast for me, as we still had a few cans
left. We followed that up with an afternoon sat in a bar on the strip, eating
chicken wings and drinking beers until it was time to get to the airport… and
Duty Free – one last thing to look forward to.

I had decided to get at least one purchase in before the
airport because I figured there was a risk – with Murcia Airport being tiny –
that there wouldn’t be much choice on offer. I’d been hoping to get one of
those exclusive to international travel Highland Park expressions, but knew the
chances of this would be low.

I called at the supermarket a day or two early then to pick
up a bottle of the standard Cutty Sark blended scotch (40% ABV). It’s readily
available throughout Spain, but much harder to find in the UK. It features in
my 101 Whiskies to Try Before You Die book, and at 11 euro, is perfect
for a casual purchase, leaving room for further acquisitions later on. It was
tempting to get something else at this time too, since you can nearly bring
back as much as you want, but I was worried about the possibilities of breakages
within my golf travel bag. The stingey weight allowance on Jet2 of 20kg doesn’t
allow for much clothing alongside your golf clubs to pad out the contents.

I wrapped the Cutty Sark in a towel, stuffed it in one of
the larger pockets of my golf bag, and stuffed a few more clothes on either
side.

Duty free was slightly disappointing, but there was still
enough there to choose from. There are two shops selling booze, but from what I
remember, the only scotch on offer is the standard Glenfiddich 12. Instead I focused
on the Spanish stuff, where in the second of the two shops I found the DYC 8 (40%
ABV) that I had been looking for. It was only 14 euro, so I figured I may as
well get something else as well, and went back to the first shop to get some
Gran Duque D’Alba Solera Gran Riserva brandy de Jerez that was 20% off at 21
euro. The Cardinal Mendoza was there too, but I decided to try something
different this time.

A good haul really, and one that leaves me with 6 unopened
bottles of spirits back at the old homestead. I’ve decided to finish one or two
before I open anything new, but with me, you know that’s not going to be long.

It wasn’t all good outcomes. Despite a lovely enthusiastic
welcome from Mrs Cake, we discovered the week long alcohol abuse has left me with
a vastly inflated belly. I’m hoping that works itself off naturally, since with
my back, sit-ups are out of the question. On top of that, because of all the
holiday cigars, I just felt so dirty – and not in a good way. At least, not just
in the good way. I mean, I always have that general background feeling of
dirtiness anyway. That ain’t going nowhere.

So, let me see, were there any particularly funny moments? I
don’t remember anyone falling over in a comical manner or anything like that
but… Chris’ profligate swearing through the various rounds of golf had us all
laughing. One time he exclaimed, “You son of a fuck!” which we soon transposed
into “Son of a fucking fuck” and rode on for the rest of the week.

There was one time on the course where David had a
particularly tricky bunker to get out of, and hit two or three shots before the
ball jumped out into the heavy rough just in front of the bunker. On his next
shot the ball jumped right back into the bunker where it began. Oh, I howled
with laughter. I don’t think that’s considered good etiquette on a golf course,
but it lightens the mood, and I’d prefer people to laugh at me when something
like that happens, than they remain po-faced.

There was definitely a lot of laughing, but those are the
instances of note that I recall.

I’m not sure I’ll be able to justify tagging along next year
too with further booze tourism adventures already in the planning stage, but
definitely the year after that.

Gran Duque d'Alba

So I hope you’ve enjoyed the brief travelogue and have had a
terrific weekend so far. I’ll see you next week with something else, hopefully.

Definitions

What happens when you zone out after having had a cheeky lunchtime pint.

Alcothusiast:

Not an alcoholic, someone who appreciates booze.

Anxiety, The:

The uneasy feeling that accompanies any noteworthy hangover.

Booze Buffet Mentality:

The propensity people have to go nuts whenever there's a free bar.

Booze Porn:Photos of alcohol.

Bread Chest:Not booze related, but this term describes the indigestion you get from eating too many bread products too quickly. Just putting it out there...

Crawler's Block:The inability to decide where to go next during a pub crawl - often resulting in crawl stagnation and someone saying, "shall we just have another one here?"

Crawl Stagnation:The result of failing to plan a pub crawl sufficiently - lack of a route, theme or over-familiarity with nearby pubs can all be contributing factors.

Excess Induced Alcohol Aversion:An intolerance for a drink caused (usually) by one occasion of overindulgence.

The Family:My whisky collection.

MOMA:

Moment of Maximum Appreciation. Every bottle has one. It's the time you drink it where you enjoy it most.

Old Man Pub:Traditional British pub, renowned for being quiet, cosy and frequented by old men. Much favoured by people who like a nice chat while they drink.Psychological Drinks Cabinet:Collective term relating to the kinds of alcoholic drinks a person has need for.Road Beers:

Cans of beer that you take with you when you go out, to consume on the way.

The 3 Types of Rum:White, gold and dark. Together they form the base of many a great cocktail.

About Me

Neil Cake is interested in all types of booze, but is by no means an authority or expert. Most of the time he's just trying to be funny, but he is learning, and enjoys sharing his adventures and what he learns on the Drink it How You Like it blog.
Thengyuverrymuuuuuch.